


False [edited]

by orphan_account



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, But Jim likes it so it's okay, Forced Kissing, M/M, No graphic sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 21:26:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1484632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For one night a month, the man in the tube is false.</p><p>[This is an edited version of my fic of the same title. I didn't want to delete the other one or just paste the edits over it because I'm nostalgic like that.]</p><p>Original version <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/826437">here</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	False [edited]

**Author's Note:**

For one night a month, the man in the tube is false.

This is because Jim is a captain, Jim can pull strings, Jim can make people turn blind eyes and remain anonymous.

Jim cannot stand it.

He spends every waking moment yearning for it, for him. He wishes for those hands and those eyes, and that voice and that touch. He longs for them to work him over with that near-clinical precision until he tips over the edge, crying out with ecstasy of a kind he's never felt before. The name that he moans feels dirty and taboo on his lips.

'John.'

It's not his true name, he knows that. It's a false identity, created for a monster, by a monster. But it helps him cope, helps him feel less guilty about what he's doing, what they're doing. He's not fucking a murderer, no. He's fucking a normal Starfleet agent, one who was never caught up in terrorism, who's brilliant, beautiful mind and body could send him places, send them both places.  
Either way, it's the name that falls from Jim's trembling lips as he's brought off by lips and teeth and tongue and cock. Sometimes he's pressed into the mattress as he pounds himself into other and a hot mouth bombards him with bites and scratches that draw blood. Other times he straddles the larger man's hips and lets him use his body. This leaves his hands free to explore the pale expanse of skin in front of him, pondering over the scars and marks which are scattered across his form.

There's nothing loving in their love-making; their frantic use of heat and pressure to test and push one another. Their identicalness fascinates them both and they wonder what in their paths had occurred to create the polar opposites of the same man. There are no soft words exchanged, only, "Oh god, yes, fuck, _harder_..." panted against skin or screamed at the top of their lungs. Any kisses shared are biting and bloody, only there to stifle moans and excite flashes of pain.

All apart from one.

They're walking back from Jim's apartment when it happens. It's a simple trek through back doors and deserted stairways, which that have become familiar to them both over their months of sneaking in and out of the like rebellious teenagers.  
'John' is usually well-behaved at this point. He knows that there's nothing he could do - either in Jim's apartment or during the small walks between there and the tube - that would do anything but jeopardise himself and his crew, so he's usually quiet, pensive, peaceful.

  
Which is why it takes a moment of stunned stillness before he realises a strong hand is pressing him up against the nearest wall.

It only lasts for a moment before his brain switches back on and he's ready to take the man he'd just had in his bed down - to punch him and kick him until he's quiet and contained.  
That is until a second, more gentle, hand lifts up, and the captain's breath hitches as long fingers course through his hair. Those long, slender fingers which should belong to a pianist or a violinist, not a brutal mass-murderer. He stares without blinking into the taller man's eyes - crystalline pools of swirling colour - until he can't take it any longer. He leans forward for his lips, only to find that they're already crushed against his own.

But not crushed, no. Pressed or caressed or slid. It's all too warm and soft for a word like crushed, but still delivered with an intensity that makes Jim breathless and his head swim.

They finally pull apart and Jim almost whimpers at the loss of that touch. He looks up at the other from where he's slid down the wall just slightly, clutching the front of his shirt so hard his knuckles pop.  
"John..." he breathes, kissing him again, more chaste this time as he pulls him down to rest their foreheads together.  
"Captain..." comes the reply, shivering through the air on a single murmur of breath that tickles Jim's tentative smile.  
But then the soft breath begins to move away and Jim's eyes shoot up in panic as he pulls him back. He tries to keep him there with more kisses and his hands still clutch with desperation at the carved muscles beneath his shirt.

"K-Khan..." The name tastes foreign in his mouth, but more truthful, more just, and soon it begins to melt on his tongue as, "Jim..." is sighed back into his mouth. Warmth trickles down from his head to his toes until finally, almost reluctantly, he firm hands force him away.  
As he looks around - not daring to catch that other man's piercing, calculating gaze, lest he forget the softness that had flashed there for just a moment before - he remembers where he is and what he's doing. He's escorting a dangerous man back to his cell of ice for another thirty days. He had to remember that.

"Captain?"

Jim blinks, then nods, straightening himself up with a small, awkward cough.  
"Um, yeah. This way," he says, shaking his head clear. Then they make their way down the last flight of steps to where the tubes are lines up, one ghostly figure next to another.  
He watches carefully as 'John' slips back into his own small compartment. Once he's comfortable he punches in the correct codes and sighs as ice begins to form across the glass and the man's already pale skin. He is reluctant to leave and so he lingers for a long moment, smiling with the same softness one would have in their gaze whilst watching a lover sleep. Then he pats the top of the container gently and forces himself to walk away.

Until next month, when the man in the tube will once again be false.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed :) Feel free to read the previous one too and tell me which you preferred in the comments.


End file.
